UnBreak My Heart
by reine Seele
Summary: It's been five years since Leonardo da Vinci last saw Ezio. Leonardo misses Ezio. Ezio obliges. Fluff and some smutty bits. Set at the end of Assassin's Creed 2. Very slight spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **My first Ezio/Leo fic. This took me _forever_, but was worth it in the end. I know how many of these types of fics are out there, so I just had to put my own up. I hope everyone who reads gets some enjoyment out of this!

Also, massively HUGE kudos to mah bestie, Barbwire Rose, for being completely _awesome_ and totally coming through with finding me a title, which was _never_ going to happen on its own. You rock.

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"_You'll come back once you've completed this…mission?" Leonardo asked, his long fingers worrying the frayed end of the tablecloth, trying not to watch Ezio pat down his armor, trying not to allow the glint of steel and the sound of metal grinding against metal distract him, and worst of all, trying so very hard not to let the _assassino_ see that he was worried. Ezio grunted and hefted the heavy breastplate over his shoulders and head, securing it around his side with clasps and ties. His gloved fingers slipped as he attempted to tie the leather straps, and Leonardo quietly swatted his hands away, tying neat, tight knots that wouldn't come undone in the heat of battle. "You'll come back, si?" Leonardo repeated, louder, wanting a definite answer before Ezio left for Roma, before Ezio left _him_. _

"_Questo dipend," Ezio said, "on how long it takes for me to kill this bastardo." Leonardo hated the uncertainty that vague answer exuded. He hated not knowing, not being able to count the days until Ezio's return. _

"_Promise me one thing," Leonardo said, his hands moving from Ezio's side to tug on the spaulder, making sure it was secure. This was Altaïr's armor, he knew it would not fail Ezio…but still, he worried. "Promise me when you do return," Leonardo said, "you will return to _me_ first."_

_Ezio smiled and clapped a hand on his lover's shoulder, squeezing him tightly. Leonardo felt his lips curve upwards into a weak return smile as his hand raised to cover Ezio's, and he thought, for just a moment, that Ezio would begin to laugh and say something childish, like, "Come, mio amico, I am merely kidding with you! I do not intend to go to Roma at all. Your expression, it was funny, no?"_

_Even as he allowed his hopes to rise, just a little, he knew that such a silly daydream would never actually come true. Ezio was dead set on traveling to Roma and there had never been any doubt as to his going. It was too soon for Leonardo, though, too soon and all too real. So was the thought that Ezio might never return to Venezia…_

_Leonardo darted forward and pressed his lips to Ezio's, wrapping his arm around the other man's neck and hugging him fiercely. Ezio responded slowly, holding Leonardo close with hands on his waist, sliding up, caressing his back through his shirt and pulling him closer. Leonardo felt Ezio's warm, wet tongue against his and melted into the embrace, wishing they could remain that way forever, Roma be damned. But, like he had known it would, the kiss ended all too soon and Ezio parted with a longing glance._

"_Sicurezza e pace," the assassin whispered, and at once, before he turned to leave, Leonardo was struck with how much older the man looked, his face grim and bearded, his eyes bright, but haggard and shadowed. He'd have given anything to save that man all the pain he had suffered through. He'd have given anything to stop him for one last kiss, one last roaming touch, one last heady moan…but Leonardo couldn't move, stood rooted to the ground as Ezio departed, the flutter of his cape and the soft clinking of metal the only herald he had._

"_Sicurezza…e pace, mi amore," Leonardo whispered, staring at the open door with a heavy, empty feeling in his chest that felt suspiciously like a broken heart._

_

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"**And ****when love speaks****, the voice of all the gods  
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony."**

**William Shakespeare**

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Five years wasn't so long a time when one had hobbies and other small joys to occupy his attentions. Five years was not so bad, not so lonely when wealthy families paid large sums of money to apprentice their semi-talented or lazy sons to the genius painter-inventor. Leonardo was never in want for companionship with the constant presence of patrons, models and muses, apprentices, and mentors he acquired throughout the years. No, five years was not so long a time.

"Perhaps we may try a new scene, mi amore?" Isabel purred as Leonardo tried to ignore the lusty gaze she gave him from where she lounged across the crimson chaise. The chaise had been a gift, but it had come with Isabel, and Isabel Leonardo felt he could do without. Her fiancé, a wealthy nobleman of Venezia, had learned of Leonardo through a friend who happened to have a few lovely portraits strewn about his villa, and had immediately demanded the attention of the artist in the form of a life sized portrait of his bride-to-be.

Normally Leonardo was more than happy to comply with any commission handed to him…but Isabel was proving to be more than he bargained for. The Venetian beauty was two decades younger than her bulbous fiancé, and she was well aware of the sway her appearance held over men. The first sitting she did for him ended innocently enough, with all her childlike curiosity blooming in the eyes he had painted, her shyness at her fiancé's suggestion that Leonardo paint her nude, and her eagerness to see the unfinished piece. Leonardo found her to be a joy to work with.

His feelings changed as the painting neared completion. Rotti, the commissioner of the piece, attended Isabel for the first couple sittings before deciding that his wasted time could be put to better use. Isabel had put up a small fight when he told her he would be leaving her alone with Leonardo, but in the end she accepted his decision and was the very picture of serenity and obedience. The moment Rotti left, she let loose with a string of expletives so vulgar that Leonardo could do no more than gape in astonishment.

It appeared the pretty little _signora_ was not quite the shy and serendipitous creature he had first allowed a part of his artist's soul to fall in love with. The next few days revealed more and more of Isabel's true nature, and Leonardo wished with all his heart that Rotti had not displeased her so. Isabel, in an attempt to make her fiancé jealous, started flirting with Leonardo, brushing against him provocatively, touching his hair and face when he wasn't paying attention, somehow sneaking up behind him to press her hips to his—it was appalling behavior, but Leonardo did not know how to address her. She had threatened him from the start, after the first incident that bade him to jerk away from her searching, lecherous hand with such force he nearly tipped over.

"Don't be such an _idiota_," Isabel had snarled, her hands on her hips and her head held high, "you have no right to refuse me. And if you try to tell my fiancé, that swine, Rotti, then I shall tell him it was _you_ who accosted _me__!_"

Leonardo had paled at her words and he knew that she was right. No one seemed to know of this vindictive side to Isabel; every word he received about her person was so heavily laced with praise he wondered if the true Isabel was trapped somewhere, and a succubus had taken her place among friends and family.

The abuse continued, until that day Leonardo found her trying his patience once more, refusing to sit for him and instead sashaying across the room to rifle through some of his older works, inventions, paintings, diagrams and the like. Annoyed for the last time by her nosiness, he called out to her in the sternest tone.

"Signora, _please_," he said, walking over to the area of his shop where he kept his unfinished and older paintings, "Signora Isabel, how many times have I expressed my wish for you to not go through my personal things! Please, it's very rude!"

"Who is _this_ man?" Isabel asked, her normally soft, sweet voice high and nasally with disdain as she ignored Leonardo, favoring a smaller canvas. "He looks familiar…is he someone of importance?"

Leonardo's breath caught in the back of his throat as she lifted the canvas and turned it toward him. For the first time in four years, he stared into the mischievous golden eyes of Ezio Auditore, and as he did, he felt his heart break all over again.

"_Madonna__!_ Isabel! Put it _down__!_" Leonardo cried, grabbing the canvas and yanking it out of her hands so forcefully she lost her balance and fell back, bumping her head on the one of his many work tables.

"Ooowww, you clumsy _pompinaio__!_" Isabel shrieked, clutching the back of her head and looking up at Leonardo with furious eyes. She stumbled to her feet without the artist's assistance (not that he offered any), and slowly cursed her way to the chaise, where she swooned dramatically. Leonardo neither noticed nor cared. He could do nothing but stare at the painting in his hands.

_Magnifico_, he thought to himself. The painting, it was magnificent. No, no, not the _painting_, it was the _subject_ who made it a masterpiece. Ezio's handsome face, his strong, square jaw, bright eyes, full, sensuous lips (_dios mio_), and smooth brown skin stood out against the black and gold background Leonardo had painted, and he felt as if he only had to reach out with two fingers to be able to feel the smoothness of Ezio's skin beneath his touch.

Isabel raged in the background, complaining of a headache, dizziness, and then wondered if her brain was injured and bleeding to death within her skull. Leonardo heard naught but a pleasant buzzing that did nothing to distract him from Ezio's likeness. He couldn't believe that five years had passed since he last saw his lover….five _dreadfully_ long and _lonely_ years, now that he thought about it.

_But da Vinci,_ he tried to tell himself, _five years is not so long, and you have all the company in the world! What is there to long for?_ He didn't know, damnit, perhaps he missed the comfort and warmth of Ezio's embrace as they lounged in Leonardo's bed, perhaps he missed the handsome Tuscan's wit and his silly, childish pranks, perhaps he wished to be of use to someone who truly needed it, and not just fat bureaucrats with fat change purses and fat, simpering wives wanting him to paint something pretty to hang upon their walls. And if he wanted to be completely honest, then yes, he missed the time they would spend making love, anywhere they chose, so long as they were discreet.

And _al diavolo questo!_ He missed the times Ezio's passion overtook them both, in a darkened alleyway, half hidden by the skirts of _prostituas_, giggling and laughing and whispering encouragements to Ezio; in the rain on an empty street, where anyone could have opened a window and seen them; on a gondola in the middle of the river, kissing and grinding against one another until they were sick with need; and _bella Madonna_, how could he forget, that time at Carnivale when Ezio had kneeled between his legs and—

"You don't care that I've been injured?" Isabel screamed, so loud she jerked Leonardo right out of his little fantasy. The artist turned and mumbled something incoherent. Isabel rolled her fierce eyes and threw a hand up in the air, cursing loudly and vehemently.

"I am leaving!" she proclaimed, gathering her things and storming for the door. "Rotti will hear of this! He will have you imprisoned, quartered and drawn, hanged, stabbed, and drowned! And you can forget the commission, _bastardo__!_ Expect a messenger by _tonight__!_"

The door slammed behind her with a loud crack, like thunder, and Leonardo swayed where he stood, his painting clutched to his chest. Only a part of him registered Isabel's words, only a part of him felt anxious. The other part of him wondered where Ezio was, what he was doing, if he was even alive at all.

_No_, he thought, _Ezio is _alive_,__I can feel it!_True, he could not promise that he would return; how could he? Ezio could not predict the future, and he was not invulnerable. The possibility that he had met with _Signora Morte_ was very strong, but Leonardo refused to let himself think of that. No, he had made Ezio promise to come see _him_ first.

In promising to do so, Ezio had unknowingly made a promise to stay alive, and Ezio was a man of his word. He _would_ come back…eventually….someday. But it had been five years. Five _long_ years, and there had been no word, none at all. Perhaps Ezio forgot… But perhaps he was just busy. That happened too, right?

Exhausted from the onslaught of emotions, already tired from yesterday's endless work, and dreading the thought of Rotti seeking revenge for Isabel's accidental injury, Leonardo felt he had barely enough strength to drag his self to his bed, where he collapsed with all his clothes on and Ezio's portrait clasped to his chest. Sleep would not come easily, but he was prepared for a night of restlessness.

_It has been far too long, mi amore_, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and started to drift off. _It has been too long a time, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, you idiota. Four years of trying to forget, and I find that I am still as foolishly in love with you as I was then._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Yay, second chapter! Thanks to those of you who reviewed, it makes me feel very fluffy and happy on the inside! Next two chapters might come out a little slowly, because I forgot an integral part to the whole thing, of course. Pfft. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys!

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"**Pray that your loneliness may spur you**

**into finding something to live for, **

_**great enough to die for**_**."**

**Dag Hammarskjold**

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**

Rotti's messenger did not arrive that night, nor the next morning, nor the morning after that. Leonardo did not know what to make of his situation. Surely Rotti was furious, and surely Isabel embellished the story of the accident so as to appear in her own favor. _Surely_ guards of Venezia were marching toward his humble home as he sat there, contemplating.

The portrait, Ezio's portrait, was in his room, hanging by his bed, where he could look at it before going to sleep. His dreams were, for the most part, untroubled. He dreamt of happier times, when he only worried for Ezio's safety, running from rooftop to rooftop, dodging arrows and hurled rocks, hoping to make that next jump before the guards caught up with him. How simple things used to be, how methodical, like clockwork! Compared to the uncertainty of now, the confusion, the past was looking to be a better place to live.

Leonardo knew, in between musings, he should be more worried, more prepared—Ezio would not be pleased to find him lazing about when danger loomed on the horizon of each day as he waited for a messenger to arrive, or worse, Rotti himself, with a garrison of armed guards to take him to prison and torture him mercilessly, as Isabel had threatened. Ezio would scold him for being so careless, but Leonardo could not bring himself to pack his most precious belongings and escape like a convict in the dead of the night. Besides, he could not leave the portrait.

No, no, he would wait, and when Rotti came for him, he would go quietly and present the truth as he had seen it with his own eyes and ask for mercy and justice. If Rotti did not grant him that, then, well, he had tried. He would accept his punishment with humility and without complaint, whatever it may be. When someone hammered on his door early in the morning of the fourth day since Isabel stormed out of his workshop, Leonardo dressed quickly, and flew to the door, composing himself before opening the latch.

Rotti stood before him, nervous, pale, and fairly sweating, though the sun had barely risen and morning mist still oozed through the streets of Venezia.

"Ser Rotti," Leonardo exclaimed, "I did not expect you—"

"Mi perdoni, signor," Rotti said, clasping his hands in front of him and bowing his head in a show of deference Leonardo had never seen a man of Rotti's stature exhibit. The older man, fat, balding, the skin of his forehead shiny with sweat and his brown eyes muddled and fearful, gave off the impression of a man running for his very life. He was truly afraid of _something_, and Leonardo knew it could not be _him_, for who could possibly be afraid of a man who refused to raise a hand against anyone? He was an _artista_, not a fighter!

"For what?" Leonardo asked, blinking stupidly.

"For the behavior of my fiancé," Rotti said passionately, bowing his head again. "She told me what happened and I swear to you it will _never_ happen again. Per favore, here, take this for your troubles."

Leonardo found his hands full with a change purse that felt heavier than a satchel full of ripe, hard apples, and he looked at it like he didn't know what it was. Where were the guards? Where were the swords at his throat, the curses of Isabel as she cried in Rotti's arms that the painter, the evil, lascivious man, had taken advantage of her pure, virgin body as she begged him not to touch her? Leonardo craned his neck and looked over the top of Rotti's head, waiting to be surprised by no less than a small battalion.

Rotti, catching Leonardo's look, paled further and spun around, his watery, wide eyes searching the hazy streets for danger. Seeing nothing, he turned back around and sighed heavily, removing a handkerchief from his pocket to draw across his forehead, soaking up the stale sweat collecting along his furrowed brow.

"Is that sum satisfactory?" he asked, panting with fright. Leonardo looked down at the pouch in his hands and attempted to explain how unnecessary payment was, but Rotti didn't wait for him to even start, just bowed his way out of the doorway, muttering something about mercy on his household and the like, mad ravings that made little sense to Leonardo, who was left standing there with an open door, a palm full of more money than he knew what he was going to do with, and a sense that something extraordinary had just happened.

He got through the rest of the day only by reigning in his curiosity and burying himself in commissions he had received weeks prior. He wanted to take a horse out to Rotti's villa and demand to know what had happened, but to do so was to invite more trouble, he felt. The man had appeared so haunted, so tormented that Leonardo wished he could have done something to ease his anxiety. And the _why_ of it! So fascinating, so frustrating, all at once! A shiver of excitement rushed through him, and for the first time in four years Leonardo felt truly _alive_. The sad part? He couldn't explain why he felt that way, anymore than he could explain why Rotti had looked so terrified. Perhaps Antonio had something to do with it—the thieves' guild was rather fond of him, after he had lent his flying machine (his dear, great flying machine!) to Ezio that one time…had it really been that long ago? Twenty years? More? He could scarcely recall…

Leonardo shook his head and swiped his paintbrush across the canvas he was working on. The sky was the wrong shade of blue, the green of the grass held a yellowish tint, and he didn't have the heart to drag out a brand new canvas and start over. Besides, he was already behind—starting over would just set his schedule back even further.

A swift pounding came at his door and he cursed loudly, throwing his palette to the floor and storming away from the ruined canvas. Would no one allow him the peace of mind to _think__?_ He threw the latch back with every intent of sending off whoever dared to disturb him…that was his _intent_, at least, until he opened the door and saw the man standing there, wearing a smug expression beneath a dark hood.

"Buona sera, signore," Ezio grinned, "I hope I'm not _too_ late..."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hoo-rah. Get it, Leonardo.

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"_**Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones**_**, **

**as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires."**

**Francois de La Rochefoucauld **

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For the past four days Leonardo dreamed of what he'd do if Ezio were to show up at his door out of the blue. For four days he made up scenarios of different possible reactions he might have, playing each one over in his mind to see which would be the best. For _four whole days_ he imagined impassioned declarations of love, hopeful promises for the future, and hot kisses along his jaw. What Leonardo never took into account during those four days was how he'd _really_ feel.

All it took was that one look, that roguish smile and those bright, expressive eyes—he slammed the door shut and leaned his forehead against the wood, trying very hard to forget about the _assassino_ on the other side.

Ezio.

Ezio was _back_.

He had left and for _five __years_ he hadn't sent word, hadn't visited, written, _nothing_—and now here he was, on the other side of the door, smiling, handsome, alive, and safe. Regardless of the facts, the door remained shut, even after a tentative knocking alerted Leonardo to Ezio's continued occupation of his front step.

"Go away!" Leonardo heard himself shout. His throat felt thick, as if something was stuck and he couldn't get rid of it. A small flame of annoyance and anger flickered in his chest as the past few days hit him in a different manner than before. Ezio thought he could just come back into his home without an invitation, and after _five years__?_ No letters? He thought not!

"Come on, amico mio," came Ezio's husky baritone, muffled through three inches of wood, "I haven't seen you in five years—"

_Exactly!_

"—and I miss you. Per favore, open the door."

Leonardo shook his head even though Ezio could not see him, biting his bottom lip. His hand was on the handle of the door, ready to wrench it open. He was torn, though. Part of him very much wanted to fling himself into his lover's arms, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Too soon, he kept thinking, it is much too soon. Four days since he had first thought of Ezio, four days since he had begun dreaming of having the man back in his arms, and now, miraculously, here he was, looking not a day older than when he had departed for Rome. It was happening too fast, and Leonardo did not have the energy to keep up with events.

"I cannot," Leonardo said, his voice trembling off his tongue. "I cannot do it…"

Silence on the other side of the door, the scuffing of boots against the ground, and a quiet cough.

"Amore mio," Ezio said, a purr on the edge of his tone, and Leonardo _almost_ gave in, "I'm sorry for not coming back sooner…please, let me explain myself to you, I swear I never meant to—"

"Five. Years," Leonardo said, raising his voice above Ezio's, drowning the other man out. He thought he heard a sigh and was very tempted to open the door a crack, just to _look_, just to catch a little glimpse. That was it. He was still angry, of course, there was no way he'd open the door all the way, no!

"I thought you were _dead_," Leonardo continued to shout through the door. "You never _wrote_, you never _sent word_ to Antonio or Rosa or _anyone_, and—and now you want me to just _accept_ you into my home? Like nothing happened?"

"Well, si, but—"

"Why have you come back _now__? _Why do you still pretend to care?"

Without missing a beat, as sure-voiced and confident as ever, not even lacking that impertinent snip that was so prominent when he was nineteen, Ezio responded.

"Because I made you a _promise_, amore mio, or have you forgotten your last words to me, and the kiss we shared in the armory of my uncle's villa? Now open the goddamn door before I _break_ it down!"

Leonardo threw the door open and grabbed a hold of Ezio's hood, yanking him inside the workshop and enveloping him in a rib-crushing embrace. Ezio kicked the door shut with his boot and held onto Leonardo for dear life, practically lifting the man and carrying him across the floor to push him against a workbench covered with diagrams and plans and scrap paper. Leonardo felt soft lips on his cheek and the scratch of Ezio's light beard before being forced into a heated kiss.

"_Mmphf!_" Leonardo moaned, scrabbling at Ezio's back and clutching his cape. He tugged insistently, pulled until Ezio reached up and undid the ties holding it in place. The cape noiselessly fluttered to the floor and was immediately forgotten as Ezio used those talented fingers to undo the clasps of Leonardo's doublet. Leonardo's head swam with excitement and a distinct lack of air. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss just for a moment.

"Mio dio," he said, pushing Ezio back just enough to catch sight of his face, and holding onto his shoulders so tightly it was as if he feared letting go. "Mio dio, Ezio…I—I do not know what to say to you…"

"Say that you forgive me for taking so long," Ezio said, grinning _that_ grin and taking Leonardo's chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his face upward. "Say also that you still love me."

"Si, si, si," Leonardo said quickly, nodding and wrapping his arms around Ezio's neck once more, dragging him close. Their lips met and Leonardo melted in Ezio's arms, fighting back tears of joy. He was alive, _egli é__**vivo**_ and he was _there_ and things were _right_ again!

"Ezio, you idiota," Leonardo groaned, tugging harder on his shoulders when he met with resistance, "if you ever leave me again, I swear, I'll—"

Ezio efficiently kissed the rest of his words away and stole his breath, refusing to give it back. Leonardo, not one to complain, wrapped his arms tighter around Ezio's neck and moaned against his lips. For a while, _artista e assassino_ remained locked in an inseparable embrace, arms and legs intertwined, tongues battling one another for dominance, teeth clicking together and muffled sounds of whimpers and groans. It was only when Leonardo thumped his fist against Ezio's armored shoulder that a particularly painful kiss was ended.

Leonardo panted as he looked up at Ezio with bright eyes, his lips red and swollen from the pressure and frequency of harsh kisses. Ezio stared back down, his chest heaving as he sucked in precious air. The staring contest continued until Leonardo reached up with one hand, aiming for Ezio's face. Ezio immediately leaned forward, closing his eyes as Leonardo rested his palm against unshaven cheek.

"I can't believe you're here, amore mio," he said, a look of wonderment crossing his features. Ezio smiled and turned his head to press a gentle kiss to the center of Leonardo's palm.

"Such sentiments," Ezio chuckled demurely, "I'm flattered. Have you always missed me like this, or is it—"

"No, no," Leonardo said, "I thought of you, always! You were always at the back of my mind!"

"Oh, just the _back_ of your mind, eh?"

Leonardo thumped Ezio's shoulder again, a look of exasperation crossing his fair features.

"You know what I mean, idiota! You were always on my mind, even when you weren't at the forefront."

Ezio smiled and leaned down for a slow, deliberate kiss. Leonardo tilted his head back eagerly and slid his hands through Ezio's long hair, caressing his scalp. He felt strong hips grind against him, slowly, and gave a startled moan against Ezio's mouth. The _assassino_ pulled back.

"I'm going to love you until you _break_," he breathed.

"Si," Leonardo nodded, tears at his eyes again, "anything you want, amore mio. _Anything_."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** The final chapter of this thing. And some smut in the beginning, hardcore, yes-yes, don't-don't-like-don't-read and all that rot. Also, thank you to Sazuka-Chan for pointing out a couple errors I made. Hopefully I got them all corrected in this chapter. Enjoy!

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"**Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, **

**we shall harness for God the energies of love, **

**and then, for a second time in the history of the world, **__

_**man will have discovered fire**_**."**

**Pierre Teilhard de Chardin**

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"_Ezio_," Leonardo gasped, gripping the edge of the chaise with one hand and bracing his palm flat against the wooden floor. His hair hung in his eyes, damp and stringy with sweat, his cheeks flushed red, and tears leaking from his eyes as Ezio thrust into him. The chaise lounge creaked and groaned, its wooden legs threatening to give way beneath the heavy weight of two grown men ruthlessly fucking. Not that Leonardo cared.

"_Mio dio, __**Ezio**__!_" he choked. The chaise creaked again in complaint, and Ezio answered with a resounding thrust that had Leonardo seeing stars. He could scarcely _breathe_ and there was Ezio, thick and long and so _hard_, buried to the hilt within him, pulsing with need and want. Leonardo shamelessly humped back, rubbing the tip of his weeping member against the cushion of the chaise as Ezio had cruelly denied him release, the _bastardo!_ Ezio grunted as he thrust again, and Leonardo's arm slipped from the chaise as he sobbed his pleasure.

"Oh dio, oh dio, oh _dio_," he whimpered, scrunching his eyes shut. Rough hands gripped his hips, pinching and squeezing and forming the most delicious bruises, which Leonardo hoped to carry for days. He bruised rather easily, after all. His rear was red and sore from the brutal spanking Ezio inflicted moments earlier, and the memory pain of his solid palm landing hard made Leonardo shiver with pleasure. Over his shoulder he heard Ezio grunt heavily, felt him press his chest and stomach close, and felt his strong arms wrap around his stomach. Leonardo braced himself.

Ezio groaned loudly and sank his teeth into Leonardo's shoulder as he thrust hard. Leonardo tilted his head back and moaned as well, and when rough, calloused hands wrapped around his length and _squeezed_ just so, fire shot through his loins and he came with a cry and a jerk. Ezio's hips slammed against his rear faster and harder as he too neared completion, but the chaise could no longer keep up with the harsh rocking.

It collapsed with one last creak, its slender wooden legs splitting and cracking in half. Ezio said nothing and continued to pound Leonardo into the ground, and Leonardo could not bring himself to think beyond the large _pene_ slipping in and out of him. When Ezio finally came, it was with a strangled moan and another bite, and his hips and thighs trembled as he pressed close. Leonardo moaned and dropped his head to rest on his forearm, arching back, still wanting Ezio. He wouldn't tire of his body for days, wouldn't allow him to put on one scrap of clothing until his passion was sated.

"Merde," Ezio huffed, planting kisses along Leonardo's shoulder and the back of his neck, "that was…"

"Bene?" Leonardo gasped back, wriggling his hips against Ezio's groin. Ezio made a low noise in the back of his throat and leaned his forehead against Leonardo's flushed, sweaty skin.

"Si," he gave in, "si, it was _molto_ bene."

"Good enough to keep you here for a few more days?"

Ezio chuckled and rolled off Leonardo to help him stand. Leonardo watched Ezio survey the destroyed chaise with a devious look in his eye and decided he'd have to replace it with something a little more…sturdy. He would browse around, find something as aesthetically pleasing to look at as it was comfortable to fuck on.

"You _are_ staying, si?" Leonardo asked when Ezio did not answer him immediately. Worry shone in his blue eyes, and for a brief moment, deep in his heart, he feared that he was going to lose his lover once more, that Ezio would leave him alone again to run off on more…work.. He almost reached out for the _assassino_, when Ezio took hold of his hand and kissed his fingertips in an affectionate gesture that made Leonardo's heart melt all over again.

"Of course I'm not leaving, idiota," Ezio chuckled good-naturedly. "Not for a while, at the very least. I have missed Venezia, and I have missed you, so of course I'll be staying…unless you'd rather I go…"

"No!" Leonardo exclaimed violently, shaking his head and grinning so widely he thought his cheeks would split in half. "No, por favore, stay here as long as you want! You know that you are always, _always_ welcome here, mio amico. But,ah, we might have a few…problemos."

Leonardo trailed off and glanced at the floor, worried for a moment that Rotti or Isabel would insist on causing trouble. What if Isabel insisted to her fiancé that he take action? What if the threat of the thieves did not hold, or whatever had frightened Rotti so? What if? Ezio could not fight all of Venezia, and he could not guarantee Leonardo's safety. Accidents happened.

"What?" Ezio asked, arching his eyebrow and scoffing, breaking Leonardo from his depressing turn of thoughts, "that figlio di puttana, Rotti?" I took care of him already."

Leonardo blinked in surprise, gaping wordlessly like a fish out of water.

"Took care of him," he echoed, not sure what to make of Ezio's words.

"Si, and that viziati piccolo cagna of his, whatever her name was."

"_Ezio!_" Leonardo began to admonish, "What did you do to them? What did you _say__?_"

Ezio shrugged and chuckled, sounding positively _evil_, but in that delightful way that sent shivers shooting up Leonardo's spine like bolts of hard ice.

"I surprised them one evening," he said, a smug expression capturing his lips, "and told them in no uncertain terms that if they ever bothered you again I would creep through their home at night and drink their blood while they slept and steal their souls per il diavolo."

Leonardo's heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest and a small light clicked in the back of his mind.

"It was you!" he exclaimed, a smile alighting his face and causing Ezio to bow ceremoniously.

"_You're_ the reason Rotti came to me out of breath and terrified! Con la grazia di Dio, I _wondered_ why he—but how did you know?"

Ezio shrugged modestly.

"I ran into a servant girl who attends Isabel," he explained, "and I overheard her talking to a friend about an artista who was going to 'rue the day he had ever been born' because of some lump this spoiled girl received on her head while she was in his care. Then the girl described a man so handsome and talented I knew she could only be speaking of you. So I decided to follow her back to their palazzo, where I continued to spy on them until they tired and readied for bed."

"Ah," Leonardo breathed, feeling a rush if gratitude, "but you didn't have to—ack, come here, you!"

Leonardo grabbed Ezio by the back of the neck and placed a firm kiss on his lips, forcing him back against a table strewn with papers. Relieved, so utterly relieved he thought he could fly, Leonardo started to laugh against his lover's lips. He had nothing to worry about. Isabel would not bother him, Rotti was too _afraid_ to bother him, and he was safe.

"Bello," he said, sighing against Ezio's scruffy chin, "you are the most amazing person I have ever met."

"Grazie," Ezio murmured, slipping his hand around Leonardo's waist and kissing him solidly. Leonardo clutched at Ezio's strong forearms, his legs still weak from his release. He trembled minutely and tried to hide it, but Ezio had a keen eye for the fine details. A quick grin later and Leonardo found himself being led up the stairs to his private room.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, beginning to pout, "I am not tired, and I want to spend time with you!"

"Who said anything about _sleeping__?_" Ezio teased back, and Leonardo felt himself flush.

"There are many other things beds are useful for, mi amore."

"Si, cosí sembra. Are you going to teach me a few of these things?"

"Of course, mio bello, of course. I have five years to make up for, do I not? I plan on starting tonight. In five years time, I suspect I will have sufficiently made up for my absence."

Leonardo shivered pleasurably as he thought about, and a silly grin crossed his face once more. He could think of nothing more pleasing than the thought of Ezio by his side, not going anywhere, and when they reached the top of the stairs, and as Ezio kissed him senseless, the only thing Leonardo could think of was that he was happier than he had ever been in the past five years.

Even with all the company.


End file.
